


Case 204: Holmes Of Arabia (1902)

by Cerdic519



Series: Elementary 221B [262]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Edwardian, Destiel - Freeform, F/M, Gay Sex, Harems, Infidelity, Jealousy, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Polygamy, Prostitution, Scheming, Untold Cases of Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-13 09:33:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18029180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: ֍ Doctor John Watson's least favourite Cornish ex-fisherman of all time narrates a curious tale in which his brother Blaze and Mr. Sherlock Holmes' former sister-in-law Rachael are worried about her son Tantalus. But all is not what it seems (when is it ever?) and something – or someone – is very busy proving that the apple oftentimes does not fall far from the tree.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lyster99](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyster99/gifts).



_[Narration by Mr. Laurence 'Lowen' Trevelyan, Esquire]_

It had been twenty-three years ago that a beautiful scruffy young fellow with impossibly blue eyes and a charming smile had come down to the little harbour at Hugh Town and had set about asking if there was someone who could take him out to Annet. It was not just that the fellow had spoke fluent Cornish (which was rare enough even back then) but that he had shone with a sort of inner goodness that there is nowhere near enough of these days. I had been but eighteen summers, full six years his junior, and I had so wished that he could be mine. 

And then, life being the bastard that it so often is, another fellow had appeared next to him, a taller (and if truth be told, tidier) fellow who had looked uncertainly around as if he had never seen boats and fishermen before. And the way that the first gentleman had looked at him, I just _knew_. Even if I quickly ascertained that the object of his longing looks had all the emotional capacity of a peanut, the Adonis loved him. He was taken. Damnation!

It would be some eleven years later and in a very different environment when I next met the two gentlemen, as I had been fortunate enough to uncover a dark plot aimed at the gentleman that I.... had seen first. Mr. Sherlock Holmes was then in what would hopefully prove to be the most turbulent period of his busy life as he had been striving against the dark forces of a villain called Professor James Moriarty. And he was still clearly adoring the hopeless dolt of a fellow with him who I doubted would recognize a feeling unless it marched by in a parade with a seventy-piece band playing 'This Is A Feeling, Doctor Watson' at full volume, and perhaps not even then! Shortly after that I heard the tragic news of Mr. Holmes' demise; I think that that was one of the few times In my life that I have ever cried.

My discovery of the truth was a painful one for me personally, even though it made me glad. Returning from a client some three years later I happened to pass 221B Baker Street just as the landlady Mrs. Harvelle – now Mrs. Singer and one of the few ladies that I have ever truly feared – had come to the door. She, bless her, kindly informed me that her tenant's 'death' had in fact been faked and that Mr. Holmes and his friend were back upstairs. I felt there to be something rather more to her words but she had a rifle and I was not inclined to push the matter for some reason so I went on my way – but not before I saw a very naked man being pressed hard against the second-floor window of the house with the sort of expression that I knew meant only one thing.

Doctor John Watson had _finally_ got the message!

Over the years that followed my position as under-manager at the molly-houses once owned by Mr. Holmes' half-brother meant that I saw both gentlemen on and off, and I found it increasingly amusing that the doctor so bitterly resented my presence. I may have very occasionally made just a little of the fact I was over eight years his junior, and I most certainly gave Mr. Holmes some 'pointers' to make his evenings in that little bit more interesting. I am sure that he often invited me round just to incite his normally calm and collected lover's jealousy, but as we all gained from that I said nothing. Although I may have treated myself to a small smirk at the thought of the doctor who actually growled at me sometimes being.... yes.

Five years ago our connections increased further when my dear brother Blaze became involved with Mr. Holmes's ghastly eldest brother Mycroft and his then-wife Rachael That any man would dare to raise his hand against a lady was appalling beyond measure, and when he did it in front of Blaze the results were all too predictable. Fortunately Mr. Holmes sorted the whole mess out, a divorce was obtained and Rachael later became my sister-in-law giving me a distant tie to the Holmes family. 

Doctor Watson's pout when I mentioned that fact during one visit was frankly hilarious!

It was this link that led to a small matter in which I once more called on Mr. Holmes for assistance. We were all older now; the doctor had passed fifty, Mr. Holmes was forty-eight and I was forty-two. But still those eight years younger. And not forgetting my beloved Philip, or Flip as he had become to me. He is a gentle soul who is never happier than when he is with his beloved books in the library (most usually with me impaled on his mighty cock while he reads to me), although there is the faint possibility that neither I nor Mr. Holmes have mentioned this relationship to Doctor Watson yet. Oh well.

When my soon to be sister-in-law had obtained her final divorce from the unpleasant Mr. Mycroft Holmes an agreement had been reached that the latter would keep and raise his younger son Midas, an unprepossessing youth whom I did not like on sight, while the elder son Tantalus would remain with their mother (I admit that I was surprised at her having gained custody of the boy but I would soon find out why). The three eldest daughters, Mary, Charlotte and Elizabeth, had all moved out before the divorce and the fourth, Rachael, had followed them last month. That left the youngest daughter Ruth (twenty-one and engaged to be married) and Tantalus (eighteen) at home. The boy had a quite striking appearance that looked almost Asian I thought, but he was good-hearted and I knew that Blaze rated him very highly.

One thing about my new nephew had puzzled me slightly, and that was that he had retained his surname. Rachael had of course become Mrs. Trevelyan but although at eighteen Tantalus could with his parents' permission change his name too he had opted to remain a Holmes. Certainly it could not be because of his father Mr. Mycroft Holmes whom I knew he loathed, so I presumed that it must have been his affection for Mr. Sherlock Holmes that led to this.

֍

Blaze was never much of a talker; indeed the fact that he had managed a whole sentence in praise of his new stepson during my last visit was frankly something of a miracle! It was not that he could not talk but more that he found expressing himself difficult and preferred to keep silent. Rachael had had sharp words with one local _grande dame_ who had made rude remarks about her husband and had told her that that was a damn sight better than never shutting up and spreading gossip across half of Middlesex unlike some people she could mention.

I _liked_ my sister-in-law!

It was Rachael who pulled me aside one day when Blaze and Tantalus were playing football in the garden. She looked troubled which I did not like at all.

“I had to go into Tan's room the other day”, she said looking nervously through the window in case either of her husband or son suddenly decided to come back in. “He is normally so efficient with his washing but there was a sock missing and Blaze said that he thought he had seen it on the floor. I went in and sure enough I could see it sticking out from under the bed.”

I winced. She had looked under a teenage boy's bed. There was no way that this story could end well. 

She nodded at my expression.

“I pulled the sock out and found a bank book under it”, she said. “I did not want to but.... it sort of fell open.”

I just looked at her. Really, she was going with that? That was right down there with 'my wife doesn't understand me' and 'I am not normally into men' when it came to Great Canards Of Our Time. She clearly caught my incredulity and hurried on.

“Someone has been depositing sums of money into an account in his name”, she said. “Quite large sums. I think it may have something to do with that friend he keeps visiting every weekend.”

“Who is that?” I asked.

“He wants to become a station-master”, she sighed. “It is not what I would have wished but.... after all we have gone through I just want him to be happy. Someone at his school knows the station-master at Rigsby Station and we agreed to let him go there on weekends, especially as it is just one straight journey. But once I saw this I began to think of all those times he has kept coming home tired and I wondered..... you know.”

I shook my head at her.

“Certainly not”, I said. Sweyn and I may only run a few of the places in London but we know nearly everyone else who does. If a relative of any of us - especially one not yet twenty-one – tried to enter the scene we would have heard about it. We protect our own.”

She did not look reassured. 

“I will tell you what”, I said. “I shall go and visit Mr. Holmes and Doctor Watson. I am sure that they can make some discreet inquiries and find out what is causing this.”

“You do not think....”

“We must not think anything”, I said firmly. “All we have in a bank-book and some transactions for which there may be any number of different explanations. Let us not assume the worst.”

Even if I myself did. But I tried to look hopeful.

֍


	2. Chapter 2

It was Guy Fawkes' Night when I returned to the capital which meant an evening of loud bangs outside rather than in. It was one of the quieter nights of the year for the business; married men felt compelled to be with their families to mark the occasion before returning to us to fulfil their baser needs soon after, which was fortunate as many of the boys had families that they wished to be with to mark the occasion.

I arrived at 221B and was shown up to see Mr. Holmes who was clearly pleased to see me and Doctor Watson who, I hoped, was better at faking things for his poor patients. Either that or he was suffering from trapped wind. I explained matters to Mr. Holmes who nodded in understanding.

“For Tantalus I must make some inquiries, of course”, he said. “He is a good fellow.”

“He is blood”, I agreed.

To my surprise the two men looked at each other.

“What is it?” I asked. “He has nothing of his father in him I know, but...”

“Actually he is the image of his father”, Mr. Holmes said quietly. “Some years after we met you in Cornwall there was a visit to London by a Pacific Island potentate called Prince Tane, who is now king of his small but strategically placed nation. He was.... how can I put it?”

“A randy young bastard!” John said looking pointedly at me.

Even the normally unflappable Mr. Holmes was hard put to conceal a smirk at that blatant display of jealousy. He just about managed it.

“Let us say that there was a spike in the birth rate some nine months after his visit, and that he was alone with the then Mrs. Mycroft Holmes”, he said. “He had been allocated someone whose job it was to show him around but it seems that that person was not one hundred per cent effective in keeping tabs on him.”

He did not even look round but I could have warmed myself from the doctor's blush. I failed to hold back a snigger by some distance and earned myself another dark glare.

“I have one question”, Mr. Holmes said. “I was unaware of my nephew – I continue to regard him as such for he is a fine young fellow – having any interest in railways. Make that two questions; why somewhere I have never heard of that is presumably in the middle of nowhere. John, do you know of this Rigsby place?”

“The Sheikh of Arber owns the hall there having purchased it from Mrs. Cutteslowe after her husband died”, Doctor Watson said, still clearly unhappy at my presence. “The Metropolitan Railway runs through there so we could reach it from here easily enough.”

“When did this sheikh make his purchase?” Mr. Holmes asked.

“May this year”, his friend said. 

“Oh.”

They both looked at me.

“That is a coincidence”, I said. “The first payment in the bank book was at the start of June.”

“Coincidences do happen”, Mr. Holmes said. “This may be one of them. Or it may not. I rather think we need to go down to Rigsby and see what is afoot, preferably when my nephew is not there.”

“Why then?” Doctor Watson asked.

“Because I have a feeling that this matter will require very careful handling”, Mr. Holmes said. “I wonder....”

He stopped and thought for a moment then smiled. 

“We might as well make the government work for our taxes”, he said. “John, can you take a telegram to the post-office for me?”

The doctor would very clearly rather not have left me and his friend together, but he could hardly say as much. Glaring at me all the way he left us. And I did not make a point to be laughing and joking with Mr. Holmes just as he returned. That was just a coincidence.

Sort of a coincidence?

֍

While Doctor Watson was gone Mr. Holmes had asked me if I would not mind waiting an hour as he was expecting someone with potentially useful information to attend him shortly. I asked how he had managed that given that I had only just told him about the case. He smiled.

“My brother Bacchus has planted a mole in the post-office across the road”, he said. “So when I send a dummy telegram to my friend Miss Bradbury requesting information about the Sheikh of Arbir – she will know it is such because I end it with my initials in such instances – he will be alerted, have a panic attack and then dash round here to tell us why we must not interfere in his business.”

I wondered at that but my musings were cut short by the doctor's return, panting as he had clearly hurried up the long stairs. We talked amiably enough – well two of us did – for some forty-five minutes before a maid brought up a card.

“'Mr. Bacchus Holmes'”, Mr. Holmes read with a smile. _”What_ a surprise!”

“I am surprised that the pest did not come straight up”, the doctor said.

“I alerted Mrs. Singer to the possibility of a visit”, Mr. Holmes said. “She was cleaning her rifle in her room, with her door open. Even Bacchus can take that sort of hint!”

The doctor was clearly wondering how his friend had known of his brother's arrival but soon the fellow was in the room himself. He looked at me as if I were something the cat had dragged in and did I not know that I was expected to make room for my betters? Something I did know, except I also knew some of the things that this rat had done to my... Mr. Holmes and I would sooner have pushed the villain into the fire. I was sure in that at least the doctor would have willingly helped!

“You are making inquiries into the Sheikh of Arbir”, Mr. Bacchus Holmes said sharply. He was nothing like either Mr. Holmes or their unpleasant brother Mycroft; the former had said all his siblings were physically very different and this one had an eminently slappable face in my opinion. We got more than our fair share of his sort in the houses, usually thinking that they owned the place. The last one had been sufficiently annoying that we had loosed Algy on him; he had been crying afterwards and had never been seen again.

“Am I?” Mr. Holmes said innocently. “I rather think that you will find I am sitting in my room in Baker Street just now. _You_ are not making inquiries, are you John?”

I narrowly stifled a giggle. His answer had clearly annoyed his brother no end.

“You will stop them”, the visitor said firmly.

“Why?”

I could just see the 'Because!' answer forming in the unpleasant fellow's mind and exactly when he realized (hopefully from experience) that that would get him precisely nowhere. He took a deep breath and tried another tack.

“Arbir is one of the pivotal nations in the Arabian Peninsula”, he said. “If the Ottoman Empire does pull a fast one on us when this big war finally comes we shall need all the help that we can get in the region. Having to watch their backs with places like Arbir will mean less troops coming against us.”

“Politics bores me”, Mr. Holmes yawned. “Who is the leader of this so important regional power, did you say?”

“Sheikh Khalid”, his visitor said, clearly annoyed at the lack of help that he was getting. “Only young; he is barely twenty-two but they forced his father off the throne when he went off his rocker even for that part of the world. The young fellow has a place way out in the country some place where he keeps his harem. Randy little bugger from what I hear, but that's expected of him.”

Mr. Holmes smiled sweetly at him. That seemed to annoy his brother even more.

“What do you know, Sherlock?” he demanded.

“You mean apart from the fact you get annoyed every time I smile like this?” Mr. Holmes said innocently. “I _do_ know something.”

He clearly enjoyed baiting his elder brother. I would have too but I had Blaze. They would probably never find my body. What was I thinking: they would _definitely_ never find my body!

“I shall be investigating this matter”, Mr. Holmes said firmly, “and you will not stop me. Otherwise I may just mention to Muriel about that recent journey of yours into Scotland.”

“Hah!” his brother snorted. “I have not been North of the Border any time this past year!”

“I meant your trip to a certain nobleman's country house”, Mr. Holmes grinned. “”I believe the maid into whom you delved quite deeply was a Miss Patricia Scotland?”

His brother scowled mightily at him, then at the doctor who was very pointedly muttering 'Scotland, maid, country house, delving deeply' as he made notes, then at me (presumably he did not wish me to feel left out) before departing with a mighty huff. I allowed myself a chuckle.

“I have one or two inquiries to make just to make sure”, Mr. Holmes said, “but I think we can safely arrange to go down to Rigsby tomorrow, Thursday. And then we will have to find a way of talking with my nephew without his mother being present.”

“And Blaze”, I pointed out.

“I am quite sure that your silent brother already knows”, Mr. Holmes said airily. 

I stared at him in shock.

“How can he?” I managed eventually. “I mean he is....”

“One of the most observant gentlemen that it has ever been my pleasure to meet”, Mr. Holmes finished for me. “We have been walking around his house on two occasions and his talents – I had considered myself skilled in that area but underneath all that silence he is the master. I am sure he knows exactly what his stepson has been up to, and I can assume that since Tan has not died of shock recently his stepfather has not confronted him over it. Since as you say Blaze has a terrible temper I am sure that he has come to accept the situation. Maybe not happily, but he loves Rachael too much to tell her the truth.”

“What truth?” the doctor demanded. “And what situation? You have not even been there.”

“I just know”, Mr. Holmes smiled. “Because I am me.”

“Mr. Modest!” the doctor muttered.

I was sure there was no perceptible change in Mr. Holmes' expression, but the doctor turned suddenly very pale.

“Lowen”, Mr. Holmes said levelly, “We shall meet you here at half-past nine tomorrow morning.”

The doctor actually _whimpered!_

“Yes I had better be off”, I said rising quickly to my feet. “Goodbye!”

I made it to the door but did not have it shut behind me before I heard the sound of the doctor racing for the bedroom. Judging from the oath that suddenly cut in he may not have made it. I did not like the fellow but I crossed myself and hoped that there might be enough left of him the next day for our trip.

֍


	3. Chapter 3

There was, barely. Although that was not what surprised me that cold morning for with them was a familiar figure. My nephew.

“Tan?” I said.

“Father arranged for me to take a day off school now my exams are over”, the young fellow said. “He did not say why though. Uncle Sherlock?”

Even I could see that the great detective was affected by that appellation. He coughed and managed to pull himself together.

“We are all going down to Rigsby”, he said.

Perhaps I had been wrong the day before about Doctor Watson going deathly pale faster than anyone I had ever seen. My nephew was giving him a good run for his money.

“R... R... Rigsby?” he gasped.

Mr. Holmes fixed him with a look.

“Yes”, he said. “To see your friend and to sort matters that need sorting.”

“Please God no!” the young fellow cried. “You cannot tell my parents!”

“Your father already knows”, Mr. Holmes said casually.

The doctor had to support poor Tan. I had been wrong; apparently he _could_ look worse.

“He cannot!” he said firmly. “How?”

“Because he arranged this trip”, Mr. Holmes said looking at me for some reason.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I told you that your brother is observant”, he said. “Like me, he doubtless noticed that his teenage son was very careful and neat, not offering any excuse for either of his parents to enter his room. That and his recent tiredness quite rightly aroused the silent Blaze's suspicions.”

He stopped and looked pointedly at his friend, who was caught mid-smile at the word 'aroused'. Doctor Watson blushed and Mr. Holmes gave him the sort of look that said they would likely be having more than words later. It was some talent, making a grown man tremble like that.

“Blaze searched his stepson's room and found the bank-book”, Mr. Holmes said still eyeing his friend like a dog viewing a juicy bone. “He was then in a somewhat difficult position. Having worked out what was going on I am sure that his immediate instinct was one of violence but now he has a wife and children to consider so that was not an option. Instead he most cunningly inveigles me into his schemes; I can only say that I am glad he exhibits no criminal tendencies or I would be rushed off my feet!”

“He extracts a single sock from his son's laundry and then mentions to his wife that he remembered seeing it on the floor in their son's room. He has already placed the bank-book underneath it and he has ensured that his wife's 'discovery' will occur just before one of your visits to the house, Lowen, knowing that you will contact me and that I will resolve matters for him.

I silently seethed. That sly, conniving, evil, twisted brother of mine! Mr. Holmes smiled knowingly.

“Perhaps when you see what he was dealing with, you may understand better”, he said. “Our mutual nephew here has been rather busy of late, have you not Tan? A whole load of what I believe one of the more recent euphemisms for is, 'horizontal jogging'?”

Humans should not have been able to turn that shade of red.

֍

Some little time later a Metropolitan Railway train deposited the four of us at Rigsby Station, a small and neat affair serving a fair-sized village of the same name to one side and the impressive Rigsby Hall to the other. I wondered if we would be admitted to what was pretty much foreign soil but Mr. Holmes wrote something on his card and would not let even the doctor see it before handing it over, and whatever it was it led to them sending a carriage down to collect us. What had my nephew been up to in these parts?

We were greeted by Sheikh Khalid himself, who looked far more the English gentleman back from foreign climes than some prince who held the power of life and death over his small but strategically placed nation. I know that it is a cliché but I somehow expected the place to be thronging with his wives who the papers had variously counted as somewhere between forty and one hundred. Instead there was but one lady dressed more as I expected and who sat quietly behind the sheikh not looking at us.

“Mr. Holmes, gentlemen”, the sheikh smiled. “This is an honour.”

His voice had barely a trace of a foreign accent. He was also very clearly wary for some reason. And my nephew was contriving to stare his way out through the floor by the looks of things. What on earth was going on here?

“It is for us all”, Mr. Holmes smiled. “This is but a short business visit, to clarify certain matters that need clarifying. Certainly not to change anything.

For once I shared Doctor Watson's visible confusion. 

“The boy's father?” the sheikh asked.

“He is content with the arrangement”, Mr. Holmes said. “It is a tad irregular, but the world is not a neat and tidy place at the best of times, which these are not. And Tan is, if I may say, definitely 'up' for it.”

My nephew have him such a look!

“What is going on here?” Doctor Watson asked plaintively.

“Sheikh Khalid and our nephew here met some time back”, Mr. Holmes said, “and agreed to what one might call a slightly unconventional arrangement.” He looked at the lady sat behind the sheikh. “I am to take it that this is the lucky lady?”

“You tease the poor doctor just like in your books”, the sheikh said reprovingly. “Yes, this is Elizabeth. My wife, my life, my all.”

The lady stood and curtsied to us but said nothing. Mr. Holmes turned to myself and Doctor Watson.

“In Arbir it is thought quite unnatural for the sheikh not to possess – and of course make use of – at least one hundred 'wives'”, he said. “He could not of course bring them all to England, but he found a clever way round that. By visiting here for a set time each year he brought say one-quarter of them over at a time.”

“One-third”, the sheikh corrected with a smile. “Go on.”

“One-third”, Mr. Holmes agreed. “Unfortunately there were two problems. First, the sheikh was struck by Cupid's arrow and wished to have only one wife, the lady here whom he loves. That would have been thought _most_ peculiar in his homeland and might even have led to his overthrow; there are more than enough hostile powers in the area who would have assisted such a move. And second there was the most awkward fact that he was expected to 'do his duty' by the other wives.”

He turned back to the sheikh.

“How did you overcome the obvious problem?” he asked. The young ruler smiled again.

“My court seer is a good friend”, he said, “and he was compelled by tradition to yield up his own wife to me. In return for the obvious he foretold that a son 'born in the light' would ruin our nation, which allowed me to have what you might call the 'service bedchamber' totally blacked out. My wives here know only that they are made love to in the dark by someone who cannot be seen, and they accept that.”

I felt totally lost – but then I got it. I stared at my nephew in horror. Mr. Holmes and the sheikh both smiled at my reaction.

“I think that Lowen has just worked out why his nephew arrives back from his country sojourns so exhausted of a weekend”, Mr. Holmes smiled. “Poor Tan. It must be.... hard!”

My nephew looked as if he wanted to die! 

_“Not_ helping!” he hissed.

“The boy's father loves his wife enough to accept this unusual state of affairs”, Mr. Holmes told the sheikh. “Indeed, he may even allow him to visit Arbir one day and, ahem, 'see' the rest of the wives. Holmes of Arabia.”

֍

There is little more to be said. We stopped off at Blaze's house on the way home and Mr. Holmes explained all to him. I am sure that there are more annoying things in this world than seriously smug elder brothers who could smirk for Planet Earth, but I have yet to encounter any! We deposited a mortified Tan there and continued back to London.

I still got a death-glare from Doctor Watson when I perhaps spent a little too long thanking Mr. Holmes and shaking his hand. I am quite sure that the great detective was doing it deliberately, for the blinds were already down on the window by the time I was outside the building. I decided to go back to the molly-house.

֍

Philip stared down at me reprovingly. We were both relaxed after a hot bath together, I to wash off the grime of my travels (and a certain relative's damnably annoying smugness) and he after a client. An evening of slow, passionate love-making beckoned. Life was good.

“You were supposed to tell them that you are in a steady relationship now”, he said reprovingly. “Did you forget _again?”_

“It must have slipped my mind _again_ ”, I smiled. “I am sure that I will remember it next time. Probably. Besides, the doctor gets jealous whenever I visit and I know that Mr. Holmes enjoys that. Even if maybe certain body parts do not!”

“Perhaps we might follow the sheikh's example”, Philip mused, wrapping his much taller frame around mine. “We could set up that large room at the back as a sheikh's palace and have six of our men service someone one after the other.”

“Death through sexual exhaustion!” I chuckled. “That would get us in the newspapers for sure.”

“I could volunteer to try it out in my spare time”, he teased. “For customer service purposes, of course!”

I scowled and pulled him closer. Beyond work hours he was mine and it was staying that way!

֍


End file.
